Stoners and Love Stories
by A.V.A.OCTOBER
Summary: Humanstuck/PP&J When two lost people collide, what will happen? They're both hiding. One behind face paint and drugs, and the other behind fake smiles and his Nintendo DS. When two people who have never loved collide, what will happen? Will hearts stop or start? Can they run from their futures or is their fate already decided? Rated M for adult situations, language, smut,
1. Awake

**A/N: Hey! Sorry for the short first chapter, just wanted to get it up and see if it was of interest :3 More coming soon!**

The first time Gamzee saw him, he was in a seemingly never ending daze, dumb and tired, with shaking hands and a strong craving. He needed a shower. This was a definite. The only reason he wasn't pent up in that dingy hell hole of a room was because after days of living there, it smelt worse than he did. When Gamzee saw him, the bright, white lights were teasing his pounding headache, his vision was fuzzy, and he was jacked up on just about every prescription drug out there. Perhaps that's why it took him so long to make the connection.

From down the hall his clouded thoughts could make out some shouts. Doors slamming open and closed. Joining the chorus of yelling, came a blood curdling scream, and shiny white shoes squeaking on the shiny white floor. A flock of nurses rushed by, wheeling some crying, bloodied up kid on a hospital bed through the halls faster than a bat straight out of hell.

_This must be the urgent care section_. Gamzee thought, and with curiosity now piqued, allowed his eyes to follow them around the corner. The two nurses in the rear of the little piss parade held crimson towels to the kid's legs. Or at least, where his legs should be.

He whistled to himself. _Poor chump_. _Both of `em, clean-motherfucking-off._

Another nurse stepped into his hazy view, looking right past Gamzee and after the parade of her colleagues. Worry creased her dark brows. Her hand was placed over her heart, the dark of her skin contrasting the minty green of the hideous nurse ged-up.

They stood like that for a minute, seemingly frozen in time, but then he got tired of standing, so he slumped against the wall, and found interest in the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her head snap in his direction, just now noticing him.

"_Gamzee_?" Her rich, harmonious voice questioned.

It was a familiar sound – that voice. It made his heart lunge within my chest. His fuzzy mind reeled. _How do I up and know her voice?!_ He met her gaze, slowly and hesitantly, masking his curiously, his confusion, his past.

"Gamzee Makara?" She asked again, approaching swiftly, a smile planting itself on her bewildered face.

"In the flesh." He arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, Gamzee. I'm your _nurse_, _Stacey_," The name struck the strings of familiarity within him. She put her large, warm hands on his shoulders, and held his gaze. The way she enunciated her words was beginning make him feel like an infant. It was disgusting, but somehow not surprising. He was already familiar with this, this woman – her shitty habits, he just couldn't figure out why. "You've been in a _coma_ for nearly a month now. I've been taking _care _of you."

Oh, well that shined some light on the situation. "Oh shit."

Her smile turned into a scorn. "They all warned me of your foul mouth, but I was hoping maybe you had some manners too." She scolded in her southern twang.

_Kinda makes me think of my mama_. "Oh, I do `pologize ma'am."

"Mhmm." She hummed and smiled over. "Lets get `ya back in your room. I have some questions `ta ask you."

The door creaked open, and the putrid scent of Gamzee leaked out, seeming to suck the oxygen right out of their mouths. The small room was quaint, and clean, besides the bed, which Gamzee had crawled out of moments prior. The shades where drawn – the only light seeping through their thin, plastic bodies.

"Boooooy!" Stacey cried, moving quickly through the room to rip open a window at the far side. The sound of traffic and, well, civilization leaked in. _God_, did he miss those sounds.

Gamzee couldn't help, but peer through the blinds, and watch with absolute attentiveness. Stacey moved to the machines beside his bed to examine the damage he bestowed upon them whilst breaking free. The cool, surprisingly fresh, breeze touched his cheeks, pushing his greasy bangs from his pale forehead. His hair, he noticed in the dim reflection, was getting a little too long for his liking.

"Damn, boy! What'd you do? Rip these things right out with a pair of pliers? Sweet jesus! Couldn't you have just called one of us like a normal kid?"

Gamzee nearly had to _rip himself_ away from his view of the city streets. "Nah." He said, and yawned, catching her frustrated gaze and smiling through his growing sleepiness.

Stacey wrapped up the cords in a hurry, then, pulled a hanging clip board off the wall. "Alright, now then. How long ago did you wake up?"

"Dunno. What time is it now?"

"12:34 pm."

"Oh, well, then I suppose I been all up and Adam since `bout… twenty five." He yawned again.

"Alrighty then. How you feeling? Anything` hurting you?"

"My head's `een hurting like a motherf – been hurting real bad up in here."

She arched a brow, and continued to ask him questions pertaining to his health and how disoriented he was. Finally, after confirming that he was fine, she informed him that they'd have to hold him another night, then left him to take a shower.

Gamzee took his motherfucking time in the shower, allowing the water to wash away the nightmares he'd had while asleep. He scrubbed himself good, as if he could just scrub away his problems. He had to return to_ that_ place now. He shivered at the mere thought. All those nights he'd spend in utter agony, laying there, wallowing in his insanity. But there was something else far deeper that being awake then meant. It meant he failed.


	2. Friends and Nightmares

Friends and Nightmares

Gamzee slipped into baggy, black, pajama pants, and an old, worn t-shirt he had recieved for a birthday some years back. It easily topped his list of favorite clothing, since he only owned so much of it anyway. Other than the large purple Capricorn sign in the middle, it was just plain black. There was nothing overly special about it really, other than the fact that it had been a gift from his good friend, Karkat. This reminded him. He had unlimited access to the phones here, something he had been lacking for months now. He made a mental note of calling them later. First, he needed some grub.

He noticed that his bed was fitted with a fresh pair of sheets, the – well, his "bathroom" for the past few weeks had been disposed of, and the horrid aroma of _him_ had been nearly cleared out as well. He gave a silent 'thank you' to Stacey.

Gamzee smelt like hotel soap and cheap laundry detergent. Not necessarily pretty, but better than the obscenely indecent B. O. he was rocking earlier. Plus he had nothing else, so this ridiculous scent would have to do. He assessed himself in the small bathroom mirror, running fingers through his wild hair. There were bags under his dark eyes – something he usually hid with stupid ass juggalo make up. The main reason he wore that shit was to piss his dad off. He didn't necessarily favor the _Insane Clown Posse_'s much at all. He liked the rapping, and simply tolerated the rest. His skin was naturally pale enough to light the way in the dark, and his hair was wild. He couldn't get it to stay down if he tried. Then again, he rarely tried. Gamzee wasn't one to care all that much about his appearance.

After running a brush and some toothpaste through his teeth, the teen made his way down to the cafeteria, his stomach growling with enough force to scare the shit out of sasquatch. As he made it to the bottom floor, Gamzee realized he probably wasn't authorized to be wandering around the hospital without telling his nurse, but it was already too late. The aroma of food wafted strongly through the air. Gamzee hurried through, following simply his nose, and trusting that it would lead him in the right direction. His senses were sharper than a gog-damn Blood Hound when he was hungry.

With a white foam tray loaded with as much food as it could hold without collapsing on itself, Gamzee made his way back to the elevator, already fed up with the ruckus of the area – the people bustling around – the noises – the smells – they were giving him a headache. He hadn't been around that many people in a long time.

_Welp, time to plug back into that morphine machine and get as high as possible before they send me back. _

Much to his dismay he nearly ran straight into Stacey at the top of the elevator_. _Her hands rested on her hips – a brow was arched.

Gamzee grinned, "Hey, there medisister – " He wanted to say more, perhaps ask about the weather, or how her day was, but the angry nurse cut him off.

"Just where in the world have you been, Gamzee?"

The teen motioned to his tray, nearly over flowing. "Just up and getting me some grub. My legs have been all tired and stuff – sitting 'round for a loooong time!"

"Gamzee, you_ really_ had me concerned, I thought you were going to try and pull another escapee stunt on us." Gamzee wasn't as phased as Stacey was hoping he'd be. "Look, just make sure you tell us where you're going, before you just take off."

"That's an order I can all up and follow, medisister." He responded as she lead him back to his room. Gamzee set his tray on his bed and eyed the old grey phone resting on the nightstand curiously. "Is that thing up and working?"

Stacey smiled. "Of course it is. You can call whomever you like! But remember, if you feel like wandering around again, _please_ tell us."

"Bitchtits wicked, medisister." Gamzee didn't seem to care about his slip, instead he placed himself on the edge of his bed and picked up the phone, grinning as he did so.

Stacey sighed audibly from behind him, but opened the door and closed it behind her without a word. Gamzee waited for the sound of the door clicking shut before he began to dial. The number was burned into his memories. He believed that it would always be there – even when he was old and senile – even when he forgets who it belonged too.

"What?" a grumpy voiced snapped through the phone.

Gamzee's grin grew exponentially at the sound of his friend's voice – a sound he hadn't heard in-god-knows-how-long. "Hey, best friend."

"_Gamzee?_" His friend choked. "Is – is that you?"

"Hell yeah, motherfucker. What's you all up and been up to, invertabrother?"

Karkat scoffed. "What the _fuck!_ Where have you _been?_ You just dropped off the face of the earth like… months ago now! You better have a valid explanation, fuckass! I was beginning to think you where dead!"

Gamzee laughed shyly and scratched at the back of his neck. "Uhhh… Yeah, I got all motherfucking locked up."

"No. _Fucking_. Way."

Gamzee began to dig into his Mount Everest of food. "Yeah motherfucker. Locked up tighter than your dad's porno stash."

"Oh for the love of - ! Gamzee, you are basically the stupidest asshole I've ever met. Have I ever told you that?

"Ummmm," Gamzee's voice hummed. "Probably, motherfucker."

"So what the hell did you get locked up for? Drugs? How many years do you have?"

"Umm… Well you see – "

The door cracked open. "Gamzee, you've got a visitor if you'd like to see him. It's your father."

"Oh, shit. Gotta go, brother."

"Gamzee – wait!"

The phone slammed down on the receiver.

The cot was stiff under Gamzee's back, but better than the shit he was used too. He just wished it was his own. He can't remember what that felt like anymore. Nice, he bet. Real motherfucking nice.

Again, he was forced to drag up horrible memories. Blood on his hands. It was his own, but somehow felt foreign. People. And sex. And more body fluids. Talking. Conversations meaningless to him. Always had been, probably always will be. Gamzee forced himself to think of the times before that. There was a new kid at his school. Shy, and quiet, and honestly adorable. Karkat had pulled him under his wing. He never did get that kids name. He thought about the fun times he and Karkat had. Fun by his standards at least. Probably lame by Karkat's. It was nice to talk to him again. Gamzee was seriously beginning to miss that grump. Karkat was really the only person who could keep Gamzee grounded. Again, the thoughts of blood touched the back of Gamzee's mind. Again, he forced those memories away.

Well, at least he tried too. He really did. But they came back to haunt him. They always did. As Gamzee reminisced, his head began to pound again. Did he take his medication today? Had the nurses been giving him his medication at all? _They had to have, right?_ These were the thoughts that scared him.

Suddenly he broke out into a cold sweat, wide eyes moving toward the door. His heart was racing – no, pounding against the inside of his ribcage. The door handle wiggled in the darkness. Gamzee froze, and held his breath, clenching his sweaty fists around the thin, cool bed sheets.

It rattled again, sending shivers down his back.

_No, no, no…_

The voices started as a soft hum, somewhere in the back of his thoughts. Slowly, they got louder, more demanding. His heart began going faster, he thought it might burst right out of his chest. He thought he might die. He couldn't hold his breath any more, and even as he panted he felt like he was suffocating. A heavy weight was making itself present on his chest.

Again the door handle rattled, but this time it stayed down. The door clicked open, but moved no more.

The voices were turning into a steady roar. Screams. They were all shouting for Gamzee's attention. He tried to will them away, but they remained persistent. He didn't think it was possible, but his heartbeat began even faster. He squeezed his fist tighter, knuckles turning white, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of palms.

_No…. Oh, god, no, please! _

The door creaked open a few inches, but not enough to let him see in. He knew there'd be no one there anyway.

Gamzee nearly screamed when he saw and inky black appendage come around the cracked door and disappear just as fast. Tears were forming in the back of his eyes. Sweat was wetting his collar.

Blood was pounding through his veins. Again the voices increased in volume. "Shut up…" He whispered, eyes glued to the door. "I SAID, MOTHERFUCKING SHUT UP!"

And they did. The cries ceased so suddenly in fact, that the eerie, abrupt silence almost made _him_ begin screaming. His heart continued to pound within his chest.

"Gamzee," A high, pure voice called from beyond the door. "Don't look away." It beckoned.

Gamzee whimpered. A child's giggle followed. He strained to listen, but all was followed in silence. Slowly, hesitantly, the teen leaned forward, still attempting to get a better look at the door through the ever-growing darkness. Something warm and moist touched his hands. He pulled them up to his face, and through the darkness, he could recognize, the dark, inky blood that was beginning down his wrist. This blood, though, was not his own.

The voice let out a low, angry moan, and then a wild, inhuman shriek. The door burst open. Gamzee screamed, his heart feeling as though it exploded within his chest. He shot straight up in bed, clutching his chest just above where his heart was violently pounding. "A dream," He murmured between pants. "Just a motherfucking dream."


	3. Perfect Misfits

So this was life.

Unfulfilling. Unsatisfying. And mostly, tragic. This was the real world. Tavros couldn't quite wrap his head around how vastly it differed from what he was raised to believe. Fairies and princesses, and heroic tales. Those picture books were once his bibles. But they were false. Sometimes he still slept with his window wide open – inviting – no matter how cold it may be in the night – no matter how disappointed he'd grow when he woke the next morning. Peter Pan wasn't coming through his window. This was a fact, no matter how fiercely he denied it.

Once again, Tav woke disappointed – dreams filled with the scent of flowers, baby steps and dirt under his wiggling toes. This was also fictitious – a fantasy sustained by an aggressive and cruel imagination. Tavros would never walk. Not again at least. Paralyzed for almost a year now, yet it he still found it difficult to comprehend that little fact. The remainder of his pitiful life would be lived in a chair.

So this was life. The real world.

Stripping the comforter off with one, violent tug, Tav looked down upon his useless appendages – pale and slim, with muscles, slowly deteriorating. In other words, pathetic. He was so damn pathetic. Hoisting himself up, and into his wheelchair, the teen yawned and rolled himself to his dresser. Now in a fresh outfit, and with the smell of laundry detergent wafting through the air, Tav made sure to check the time. It was 7: 16 am, meaning his mother was long gone by now. For some reason, he was a little disappointed by this, and a little numb.

After finishing the process of getting ready, he rolled himself down the hall and into the quaint kitchen. The fridge was just about bereft of anything good to eat, so Tav turned his attention to the freezer above. Cold air attacked his nose and cheeks as he pulled it open. A large, red bag near the back of the frozen wonderland caught his attention effortlessly. Chicken nuggets. Instantly, a weak smile touched his pale lips, but doubt soon followed. Smile fading, Tavros stretched as far as his useless lower body would grant, but at his best, he still could reach. His stomach growled. The red bag beckoned.

With a sigh, the boy shut the freezer, and hate filled his small lungs. He probably didn't have time to prepare something like that anyway, he thought, attempting to reassure himself, but the numbness was still their – a brick in his heart that beat for no reason.

The breath leaving and entering his lungs – it was being wasted. He was a pitiful life-form – an undeserving devastation. That's what they had told him. And showed him. He had been shown far too many times, exactly how dependant and in-valuable he really was. Simply a waste of time. A waste of space. A waste of oxygen.

Tavros continued through his daily routine in a self-inflicted daze. Usually he'd be eating now, but he daydreamed instead. Slid shoes on useless feet with meaningless dreams of walking. Pulled his backpack into his lap. Opened the door and locked it behind him. Headed straight for a place he called hell. Hopefully he could avoid the demons this time.

A fleeting thought.

He never could, as he could never stand. As he could never reach the shiny, red back in the back of the freezer. As he could never live. Tavros tried to smile, but it would never stick.

His high school was bustling with the usual students. Cliques were sprawled across the halls, conversing within their own little semi-circles. Jocks and stoners and loners and nerds and hipsters. Then there were him and his friends. A group of perfect misfits. A bunch of idiots who didn't really belong anywhere but together. His 'clique' contained a broken-hearted hipster, a blind comic freak, the swimming team captain, a brooding computer geek, a fangirl-crazy anime nerd, a quiet, demanding weirdo, a humorous gothic chick, an intelligent, fashion diva, a cold-blooded bad ass, Tav, the quiet paraplegic/newest addition, and to top it off, a angry dude with deep-rooted daddy issues to keep them all together.

It was utterly chaotic, but nice.

Tavros struggled to maneuver through the busy halls without his friend, Karkat, there to scream profanities at the people in the way, finally, the bells rang and the crowd dissipated. He ran his fingers through his wild Mohawk. He would be late. Again. Tav hesitated before struggling through the door to his first period class, English.

The entire classes' gazes fell on him, staring him down as if he had gone parading through the halls on a murderous rampage. He couldn't fight down the blush rising on his cheeks.

"Hello there, Tavros, glad you could join us." Ms. Lalonde said from the front class, sarcasm tainting her strong voice.

Tavros looked up at her, frozen in embarrassment, attempting to choke down his growing fear. That woman had always frightened him. "Uh… um, sorry, the halls – I – it was hard to get through… um… t-the crowds." He stuttered, voice faltering and finally trailing off. Lalonde simply motioned for him to take a seat, a judgmental gaze eyeing him coldly. Tav, staring into his lap, began down the isle of desks, wheel bumping violently into a classmate's chair. "Um…! I – I'm sorry." He uttered, just above a whisper, and pushed passed.

As he approached his own seat, his intelligent, fashion diva friend, Kanaya, withdrew the chair for him, a sympathetic smile on her painted lips. Flustered and nervous and humiliated, Tavros faked smile, and nodded his thanks.

The class droned on. Slow. Nearly painful. There was a short quiz on the reading, and then Ms. Lalonde lead the class in notes. Tavros listened half heartedly to whatever Lalonde was droning on about, playing with his fingers in his lap, eyes never leaving the perimeter of his desk. Just as he began to find happiness in his daydreaming, the bell rang, dragging him back to reality. To the cruel joke his life turned out to be. "And remember class!" Ms. Lalonde called as her class packed their bags as fast as they possibly could. "Chapters 20 through 23 are homework!"

"Good morning, Tavros." A voiced hummed from just beside him.

Tav jumped, nearly expecting the figure to be a bully, ready to give him a hard time. He only smiled when he saw Kanaya. "Hello, Kanaya." He responded as cheerfully as he could muster.

"Do you require my assistance with getting to your next class?"

"Um, well… n – not really, thank you. Karkat should be waiting by now, and – well, I - I don't want to… to – "

"– Run into Vriska. Yes, that is an understandable reason. I do apologize for my friend's… well, her behavior is absolutely unacceptable."

Tavros looked down at his lap shamefully. "She's not that bad…"

"She's terrible, I'm well aware of it." Kanaya chortled. Tav looked back at her. "I suppose I'll be seeing you at lunch."

"Y – yeah!"

"Goodbye then, Tavros." She turned away, swinging her jade green backpack over her shoulder with a faint smile on her lips.

"B – Bye!" He called as she left. Tavros stuffed his notebook into his bag and slug it around his chair, before taking off towards the main hall.

For Tavros, lunch seemed to come slower than usual. With a tray balanced in his lap he pushed himself out the door and to the benches at the far side of the school, where no one seemed to show any interest in eating. Well, no one except for his friends. The seven 'perfect misfits' present all sat in the same area, but had separated into sub groups based on how well they all got along.

Crazed anime fangirl, Nepeta, and silent weirdo, Equius, sat close together on the small grassy hill just across the benches where brooding computer geek, Sollux, blind comic freak, Terezi, and deep-rooted daddy issues, Karkat, where talking. Adjacent to Nepeta and Equius, but nowhere near each other, broken-hearted hipster, Eridan, and humorous goth girl, Aradia lounged in the grass. Eridan was mindlessly grazing through a book on alchemy, while Aradia flipped through a rather old looking "Grimm's Fairy Tales".

Tavros approached with a smile, relieved to not see either cold-blooded bad ass, Vriska, or intelligent, fashion diva, Kanaya around. It was not that he didn't like Kanaya, it just that wherever she was, Vriska was soon to follow, and Tavros did _not_ like Vriska.

After the group muttered a greeting, Tav rolled up to Aradia, eyeing her book happily. "What story are you reading?" He asked.

Aradia smiled up from her book. "The old Cinderella." She responded. "It's pretty gruesome."

"I'd like to hear you name a story in that book that's not." He laughed, and their conversation quickly went off, describing their favorite fairy tales and why they liked them so.

"Guys, I have some news, so listen up." Karkat said, his tone as if he were about to make a big announcement. From his sides, both Sollux and Terezi sighed and rolled their eyes.

"Here he goes again." Terezi joked.

"KK, you should really consider running for class president with how much you enjoy giving your stupid, pointless speeches." Sollux chimed in.

"Shut up, fuckwad, I don't have the energy to keep up with your pathetic word vomit at the moment, and this is important."

"Wwhat is it, Kar?" Eridan asked, turning his attention toward the self proclaimed leader of the group.

"Don't ask me how, or why, but I got a call from Gamzee yesterday afternoon."

Terezi arched her brows. "_What?_ How is that even possible?"

"What's that I heard about Gamzee?" a voice asked from behind Karkat. All eyes fell on eyes fell on the approaching Vriska, Kanaya and swim-team captain, Feferi. Eridan's eyes where especially glued to Fef, on the other hand, Tav's eyes were glued to his arch nemesis, Vriska.

"Yeah," Vriska added, plopping in the grass beside her best friend, Kanaya. "didn't we all decide he, like, died or something?"

"Yeah, well, that's what I fucking thought too, but no, you'll never guess what happened to that dumbass."

"Excuse my asking, but, uh – who exactly is, uh, Gamzee?" Tavros asked softly.

"You are _so stupid_ sometimes, toredumbass." Vriska responded with a laugh. "He was one of our old friends, but really, just a lame juggalo asshole."

"Just about every sentence that spilled from his nonsensical mouth was something about 'miracles and faygo'." Sollux added, wearily, but smirking at the memories.

"Faygo?" Tavros asked, unfamiliar with the word.

"It's this disgusting, sugary soda he seemed to favvor." Eridan responded, shaking his head.

"So," Equius piped up. "What exactly… happened to him?"

"Yeah," Tavros added, ignoring the unpleasant look the muscular blond was sending in his direction. "What happened to him?"

"Probably a week before you came here," Feferi began in her pure, happy voice. "He just… vanished."

Sollux moved to Feferi's side from the bench, and gently hooked his fingers between hers. Both Aradia and Eridan averted their gaze. "There was no word from him." He explained.

"Can you dumbasses find it in your best interests to silence your blabbering for one fucking minute?!" Karkat snapped over the chatter.

"No," Sollux responded defiantly.

"He's in jail." Karkat finally spit out.

Jaws dropped. "J – jail?" Tavros asked with unease growing in his stomach.

"Why am I not at all surprised?" Kanaya asked, voice heavy with sarcasm. "For lack of better words, he got what was coming to him."

Nepeta nodded. "*AC meows off into the distance, a forlorn expression overcoming her face* That is so sad. *AC sighs softly, and licks her paw* when will he be back?"

"I don't know," Karkat responded. "He hung up before I could really ask anything."

"Oh, god, you wasted all the time you had nagging him didn't you?" Terezi asked, burying her face into her hands.

"Of course I fucking did! He's in jail!"

Yet again, Terezi and Karkat dove into one of their infamous arguments, and the group, a little dumbfounded by the news continued what they were doing before, as if nothing happened. It wasn't really that surprising of news anyway.

But Tavros couldn't seem to shake his unease.

The bells rang, signifying the end of the school day. So far, Tav had managed to avoid any violent encounters with the devil and her gang of demons, but he couldn't feel relieved just yet. He still had an entire trip home to look forward too.

Uttering a goodbye to Terezi, who had pushed him to the front doors, Tavros began to push himself as fast as he could toward home.

"Hey there, Toresnore." A maniacal voice called.

He froze, heart picking up a beat, and scanned the dissipating crowd for any sign of one of his friends.

"Don't ignore us asshole, we're not going to disappear."

_Us. She said us._ There was more than one. Tavros swallowed hard and turned to face his aggressor. "H – Hey there, Vriska." Behind his blue-eyed "friend" stood two of her little boy toys, all caught under her evil spell.

"Don't 'hey there' me, twerp. Do you know how hard it's been on all of us, dealing with your shit? I really do think you own me an apology."

"F – for what, Vriska?" He asked, softly. _Just comply and you won't get hurt. Just do what she says, Tavros. Roll with the punches._

"For being fucking useless, obviously." Her lackies chuckled in unison.

Tavros looked down at his lap. "I – I don't really think I ne – need to apologize for that… It's… uh… not my fault at-um- all." _What the hell are you doing?! She's going to cream you!_

"_What_ was that, twerp?" Vriska grabbed his collar and pulled him up to her. Her electric blue eyes bore holes in his self conscious.

He gripped his wheel chair tightly, afraid she might kick it out from under him again. "I – I'm s – sorry, Vriska."

Now she smirked, a blood-curdling experience. Tav's heart skipped a beat. "_For what_?" She asked slowly, dragging out her venomous words.

"Fo – for -uh- being crippled…" His voice faded out.

"Good boy." She hissed and released his collar. Tav fell back into his chair with a silent, relieved sigh, thanking the fairy gods for his safety.

"Vriska, we're going to miss the bus." One of her lackies said with unease.

"Yeah, yeah, come on." And the prowling lioness gave up the hunt, and led her unknowing victims away.

When Tavros arrived home, he dropped his bag by the door and rolled directly to his room, exhausted from another stressful day. Even though there was no one home, he locked his bedroom door behind him, and crawled up on his bed from the familiarity of his chair. Tavros pulled his pillow lengthwise, burying his face into it in silence.

The house was empty – silent, with the exception of his stifled sobs.


	4. The Past

Gamzee – age seven. Parents are fighting in the other room, but he ignores it – turns the volume up on his Nintendo 64, jams harder on his controller buttons, and ignores it. Sometimes he could still hear a shout or two over the catchy theme music, and through the door. Although these fights weren't a phenomena, he didn't really have anything to complain about. He had a shiny blue bike in the garage. A giant pack of crayons with the little sharpener on the back. All the toys and games that made his friends jealous. Bunk beds, and a big house. That was all a kid his age needed to be happy.

He hears a final, _I'M LEAVING!_ and the front door slams shut. It's alright, she'll be back in the morning. His father stomps up the stairs and throws open the door.

Gamzee jumps a little.

_Will you turn that damn volume down?!_ He shouts, face, beat red, shoulders lifting and falling with his heavy breathing.

Gamzee, a little scared, a little worried, and little hurt, turns the volume all the way down with a brisk nod, and swallows hard. _Yes,_ He whimpers.

_Your mother left. She'll be back in the morning._

Gamzee nodded again. He never really made such a big deal about how his father always said, 'your mother', instead of calling her by her name, the older he got, the weirder it began to sound.

His mother never did come home.

Gamzee – age nine. His father, having grown rigid and cold in the past years, silently gets in the driver's seat, disregarding his son. Gamzee still has no idea where they're going, but he has this feeling that it won't be too fun.

They drive in an unnerving silence until his dad finally keys in a few buttons on the radio, and country music hums through the tension. Taking this as a sign that there won't be any communication, Gamzee retrieves his Gameboy, and clicks away, leading his Pokemon through the Kanto region with ease. This game never really interested him all that much anyway.

The car finally pulls to a halt in front of a medical clinic. _Am I getting a check up?_ He asks quietly, looking toward his father for guidance.

_They're going to do some tests._ His dad grunts back. _Just some tests that's all. They'll have to draw some blood._

_Alright._ And the conversation is over.

They go in. Words are spoken – words he doesn't recognize. Then they sit, and they wait, and Gamzee has a hard time hiding the fact that he's nervous. And his father is grazing through a Sports Authority magazine, so Gamzee plays his Gameboy, unable to voice his feelings.

A familiar last name is called, and the two stand, follow a fat, southern woman through a few doors and wait again. A scary man in a white coat, leads Gamzee into another room, and even though he's scared, and nervous, he wants to make his dad proud with his bravery so he follows without hesitation. Everything is white, and foreign, and the lights are too bright on his eyes, but he sits and he listens.

The scary man smiles, and explains in a calm, sweet tone that they're going to have to draw some blood for a test his father wants done. He doesn't seem so scary anymore. Gamzee does as instructed, and watches with undivided attention as the fat lady returns and wipes roughly at the inside of his arm with a strong smelling cotton ball.

_On the count of three,_ She says without looking at Gamzee. They count and at three she jams the needle in.

Gamzee winces, but recovers quickly, and watches intently as the crimson fills a little vile. The doctor keys some letters into the nearby computer. The nurse withdraws the needled and disappears out the door, uttering some more words to the doctor.

The man turns away from his computer with a broad smile. _Now that wasn't so bad after all, was it?_

Gamzee can't help, but smile back. _No, no, it was easy!_

The doctor laughs and puts his firm hand on Gamzee's shoulder. _And you did great_. He presents a jar full of lollipops to the child. _Which one would you like?_

_Purple please._ He responds instantly, and gleams when the lollipop is placed in his hand – small in comparison. _Thanks!_

_No_ _problem, kiddo, now let's get you back to your dad, he should be waiting._

Gamzee's smile falters. He liked this man. But he complies and is soon reunited with his stand-offish, and cold hearted father.

The doctors expression turns serious again. _We'll have the results in a few days._

_ Everything?_

_ Everything._

Gamzee's father seems content. _Alright then, thank you. Have a nice day._

_You too, Mr. Makara. _Then he bent down to Gamzee's height. _I'll be seeing you around, squirt._

The child liked that idea.

He had nearly forgotten about the entire ordeal when the test results came back.

Gamzee didn't know if he was more disappointed to find out that he was a bastard child, or that his mother was HIV positive when carrying him.

Gamzee – age 10. He begins to rebel. He begins to listen to music no parent would ever want their child to listen to. He begins to wear mostly black, and fantasize about smoking cigarettes and drinking booze. He stops caring about what the religious south has to say about him.

He yells back when the teacher scolds him. He gets sent to the office, and his father is called in, and he sits there and sneers at his dad and at his principal the whole way through the meeting, but 'Mr. Makara' never seems to notice.

And as the principal goes on about Gamzee's terrible attitude, and his reputation for biting the kids who got too close, Gamzee realizes that his father truly doesn't give a flying fuck about his reputation.

About his grades.

About his music or his looks.

And the principal is just doing his job, rambling on and on apathetically in a monotone voice. He's just doing the work cut out for him. He doesn't care either.

So Gamzee decides to live that reputation to the fullest.

His father checks his watch mid-way through the speech. _I'm sorry he's inconvenienced you so_, Gamzee's dad starts in his most formal tone, _But I've really got to be somewhere soon, so can you please cut to the chase, Mr. Gray? Would you like me to take him with me, or can he stay at your school for the rest of the day? _

Suddenly, Gamzee's look on life changes. The principal, flustered and offended, gives Gamzee a look of total sympathy – understand of his situation, and licks his cracking lips.  
_Gamzee can stay. _He says,_ voice still monotone. But he'll have detention for the next two weeks as a consequence_.

And nodding a thank you, the man takes off, briefcase in hand, with not a word to say to his illegitimate son. The principal quietly excuses Gamzee.

Gamzee finally comes to the understanding that no matter what he does – or if he ends up dead in the process, his dad will never truly care.

Gamzee – age 12. It's the first time his father's hand comes in contact with his face. The man stands over the child for a moment, seething in rage, and storms off.

_Pick yourself up off the floor, you pathetic piece of shit. We've got to go to church._

Gamzee – defenseless and young, lays there, withering in a pool of his own bloody tears. He realizes that those where the most words his father had spoken to him in weeks.

He also realizes that he hates that man.

Gamzee – age 13. He's sent to the hospital with a broken wrist. Lies to all the nurses and doctors when he says he fell out of a tree. Just as he was told to.

It's the first year he's introduced to OxyContin, and it seems to make all of his problems fade away.

He thinks he likes painkillers. A litter more than he should.


	5. Almost Silence

They said he'd be home in early September, but he wasn't. In fact, he wasn't packing his things until mid October. His phone wasn't back in his hands until the day after, and as Gamzee was lead down the halls, he still had no idea how he was getting home. His father had filled out the paperwork some days prior, claiming to be too busy to do it on another day – to be more exact, Gamzee's day of release.

Gamzee's usually energy had been extinguished by this unsettling discovery, and without his phone, there was no one he could get in contact with to pick him up. He looked up at the bulky guard with a sad smile. These assholes had become the closest thing to family Gamzee had. Well, beside his best bros. Again, Gamzee's attention was directed ahead. Two white doors separated the halls from the small corridor where there might be a parent at the edge of their seat in anticipation, ready to embrace their son or daughter who they haven't touched since July. If they even took the time to show up at the meeting in July. Gamzee's father sure as hell didn't. There would be a nurse behind a counter, conversing casually with the guard on the other side – bored to tears and apathetic to the kids behind those doors. It wasn't their job to care.

He got excited again, but remembered that there'd be no one there for him. No mother to hug him like a parent should. No father to pat him on the shoulder, and call him 'son'. No one to welcome him back with giant smiles on their faces. There'd be none of that. Just a nearly empty room with a woman sitting on the edge of her seat. She'd jump when the door opened, but settle down with obvious disappointment when she saw Gamzee's unfamiliar face, and not her own child's. There'd be that nurse, who sign him out and wish him good luck, but not mean it. And then there'd be silence, and Gamzee would leave without an actual destination.

Gamzee's quick prediction was pretty damn accurate. The woman sat with her husband though, holding his hand so tight that he knuckles where white, and they whispered their worries into each other's ears. The nurse was talking with the guard, but stopped immediately when she saw Gamzee, and sent a heart-warming smile in his direction. She was young. Obviously new to the job.

"You must be Gamzee M.."

Gamzee nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Her brows creased as she glanced around the white room. "No one here to get you?"

"No, ma'am. My dad up and filled the paperwork out early."

"That's right," She flipped through a clipboard, worry still creasing her forehead. "But still no one to pick you up?"

He decided to drop the 'ma'am' act. "Well, medisister, I couldn't up and get in contact with any of my bro's or sis's. So I guess I'll just take a bus."

She laughed at his term, and a sympathetic smile touched her lips. "Alright then, Gamzee."

After she signed him out, and a guard checked through his stuff, he was able to coax enough money for the bus fairs and a little more out of the sympathetic nurse. Thanking her happily, Gamzee threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and began down the long driveway of the old brick building. The towering trees arched over the street like long, limber arms reaching for one another. The leaves of the oaks where turning orange, and amongst them, the deep green of the few pine trees seemed to pop out. It was a beautiful sight to someone who had been locked up for years. In fact, it was breathtaking, and if Gamzee wasn't in some kind of hurry, he'd lay there in a bed of dead leaves and stare up at the sky through the branches, and listen to the leaves rustling in the light wind. He'd shut his eyes, letting the breeze pick his wild bangs up from his face and cool his cheeks, and he'd probably doze off, and wake up hours later and laugh because he'd never felt so peaceful before in his life. But instead he kept moving. He had other plans, and they consisted of getting him ass home and slamming a wicked elixir. He supposed he walk until he found a bus stop, call Karkat when he got a little closer, and give his motherfucking bro a hug.

The bus drivers were really nice in the country. There was no rush, no smelly hobos, just driving. There wasn't a single soul aboard when Gamzee leapt up the steps. With a toothy smile, the driver asked he where was heading, and if he needed a transfer.

Must get real lonely.

"How close can you get me to Portland?" He asked reciprocating the grin.

"I can take you straight there!" The driver laughed.

"Any further?"

"No, sir, that's my last stop. Where you tryin` to go? I can get you a transfer?"

"Olympia, sir. I would really up and like one of 'em motherfuckin' transfers."

"Holy hell! I don't know any bus that'll take you all the way up to Olympia, but I can give you a transfer that'll take you to Kalama. Does that work?" The driver asked, ripping a small, pink transfer sheet off a stack by his chair.

"Yeah, brother, that's chill."

He scribbled some blue words onto the sheet and handed it over. "Bus D34 should get you there."

Gamzee slid the coins necessary into the slot, and took the paper in his hands. "Thank you, my bus drivin` brother!" He slid into the first seat diagonal of the driver and rolled his aching shoulders with a grimace.

"It'll be a long ride though," The driver glanced at him through the mirror. "So you better get comfortable."

"You don't have ta` up and tell me twice." Gamzee hummed, slouching against his duffle bag with a light smile. "But how long are we talking, sir?"

"About two hours if we don't pick anyone up on the way, which we won't."

"Well, then, I suppose we should up and get friendly, name's Gamzee."

"Frank. Nice to meet ya`."

Must get real damn lonely.

Gamzee ended up spilling is heart out to this man named Frank. Perhaps he was rehearsing for when he'd do it to his best friend – but words were flowing from his lips lightning speed, the occasional, 'motherfuck' or any of its variants forcing their way into random sentences at any given time. Frank nodded his head, and threw in a few comments, but said little. Either the man was a really good listener, or a really shitty one, but Gamzee found himself not caring. He just wanted to get it all off of his chest, his guilt and his struggles – his everything. There was no stopping his speech until he had uttered every thought of his – gotten it all out of his confused mind and into the open, where the heaviness of his words hung like the pollution over the city.

Finally it was out. The river of his secrets flowed now in the open. The two sat in almost-silence, the only sound coming from the buses wheels over the streets. It was a soothing noise. Comforting to Gamzee, who suddenly felt vulnerable and lost. Just outside Gamzee's window the sun was setting, slashing a mural of beautiful colors across his unpainted face. He squinted, but didn't look away. In the distance, Mt. Saint Helen reached into the sky, her jagged edges cutting deep into the sunset. The bright rays of orange light shot through the breaks in the Evergreens, casting long shadows over the bus as they drove on. He inhaled deeply, and exhaled with a refreshing sigh, breathing freely for the first time in years.

"This is where I stop." Frank said as the bus pulled to the side and slowed to a stop. Gamzee glanced around at his surroundings. A small, less populated portion of Portland. Cars lined the streets, framing a gas station on one side, and a plaza of small shops and diners on the other.

The teen lugged his bag over his still aching shoulder. "Thank you motherfuckin` much, brother."

"Just doing my job," The driver laughed and then repeated, quieter, "Just doing my job."

"Well, you're bitchtits wicked at it, brother." And with that parting comment, Gamzee proceeded down the steps, leaving a confused driver looking after him.

The teen practically ran into the 7-11 gas station and skipped straight to the wall of beverages in the back of the store. Once there, he located a bottle of _Faygo_ with ease and nearly started crying. "I told you we'd meet again, motherfucker." He whispered as he retrieved two bottles and began to caress them. "I motherfuckin` told you, dawg." He added, making his way to the check-out counter and not failing to grab a bag of _Doritos_ on his way. Once there, the clerk stared at him with a cold eye, probably assuming he was some sort of trouble-maker, stoned off his ass.

_Not quite yet, motherfucker. _Gamzee thought as he carried his bag out the store, and returned to the bench marking the bus stop. Nearly dying from anticipation, Gamzee withdrew a bottle of Faygo, hands trembling, ears straining. Finally, after deciding he had teased himself enough, he unscrewed the top, and a satisfying hiss following. To Gamzee, this was just about orgasmic. Soon after, he began giggling like a maniac. A few passing  
pedestrians stared in fear and curiosity, causing him to laugh harder at their bewildered expressions. He sat like that, chuckling until there were tears in his eyes – laughing too hard to even get a sip out of his precious Faygo.

Life was full of motherfucking miracles.

Gamzee laughed at himself, and his Faygo, and what his best bud might say if he saw him then, and at the fact that he was free. He was motherfucking free. Locked up he had changed so much, yet so little. He was deranged and twisted and because of so, he couldn't find any other way to express his happiness other than laughing. And laughing. And laughing. So he did.

It was something he hadn't done in years.

Finally, he took a breather, panting, and allowing little chuckled to escape here and there. He took a few large drinks from his Faygo, and smiling like an idiot, began to dial up his best friend. It was a phone number he'd never forget. Burned into his memories – a light amongst so much dark.

"Gamzee?!" the voice of his grumpy best friend shouted through the phone, thick with disbelief.

"Honk honk, motherfucker."

"Where the hell are you?! Better yet, where the hell have you been?!"

"Yeah, brother, I'll tell you about that in a `lil. I'm all up and in Oregon, but I'll be in Kalama in like… two hours. Can you pick me up, best friend? You're not all up and at work, are you?"

Karkat's sigh was audible. "Where the fuck is Kalama?"

"I don` know, dawg! Up and google maps that shit." Gamzee hesitated, voice dropping to a more serious tone. "But can you come alone? I need to get all serious-like with you, bro."

"Alright… Fuck. It's about an hour away from here, so, yeah, I'll be there to save your stupid ass. Again."

"Motherfuckin` miracles, brother."

"No, not miracles you clown asshole! I expect answers!"

"Alright, alright, calm yo` tits. You'll get your answers. Just be patient, motherfucker."

"This is the first time I'm hearing for voice in god-knows-how-long, and you're trying to motherfucking preach your stupid ass juggalo ways. Really?" Although Karkat was trying to hide it, Gamzee picked up the sound of a smile in his voice.

"Brother, you all up and know me!"

Another sigh. "And Gamzee?"

"Yeah, best friend?"

"I – I'm glad to hear that you're alright," and then he added, "dumb ass." To not sound too genuinely worried.

Gamzee just grinned. "Yeath, brother. See ya`." Following his short, few words, there was a soft click, and then a beeping, signifying that the call was over. Gamzee couldn't stop grinning. He was going to see his best bud again after two motherfucking years. He slammed his wicked elixir and nearly began his crazy laughter again, when bus D34 pulled up, interrupting him.

carcinoGenecist [CG] opened a memo.

CG: GUYS, LISTEN UP. GAMZEE JUST CALLED ME OUT OF FUCKING NO WHERE. I'M ON MY WAY TO KALAMA TO PICK HIM UP RIGHT NOW, MEANING YOU FUCKASSES HAVE THREE HOURS TO MAKE YOURSELVES USEFUL AND PUT TOGETHER THE BEST WELCOME HOME PARTY IN ALL OF PARADOX SPACE, GOT IT?  
CG: TEREZI, YOU'RE IN CHARGE OF DECORATIONS.

TA: and you call u2 u2ele22…

GC: Y34H, L3TS PUT TH3 BL1ND ON3 1N CH4RG3 OF D3COR4T1ONS. GR34T 1D34, K4RK4T.

CG: FUCK, FINE. YOU CAN JUST CONTINUE BEING USELESS THEN. KANAYA AND FEFERI ARE INCHARGE OF DECORATIONS.

GC: : [

GA: I Believe I Can Handle That.

CC: Yea) (! It'll be fin!

CG: OK THEN. WHOSE HOUSE CAN WE USE?

CA: i guess wwe can use mine. evven though gamz gets on my nervves sometimes.

TA: liike you're one to be talkiin ED.

CA: shut up scum bag. no one fuckin asked you. i hereby uninvvite sol.

CG: BOTH OF YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP. EVERYONE IS GOING. NOW WHO CAN BAKE A GOOD CAKE?

AC: 33 *ac jumps excitedly* i can, Karkitty! And Equius can help me!

CT: D- I will do no such thing.

AC: 33 yes you will!

CT: D- I will not. It is childish horseplay, unfit for you and I.

AC: 33 but it's a purrfect idea!

CT: D- No.

AC: 33 yes!

CG: OH MY GOD SHUT UP. YOU GUYS ARE SO EXTREMELY RETARDED, I'M SERIOUSLY BEGINNING TO BELIEVE I STUMBLED INTO A LOONEY BIN INSTEAD OF THAT REPULSIVE, PIECE OF SHIT THEY CALL A HIGH SCHOOL. NOW CAN WE PLEASE GET OUR SHIT TOGETHER FOR ONCE? THAT WOULD BE FUCKING FANTASTIC.

AG: this idea is so laaaaaaaame!

AA: I think it is a great idea.

CG: I KNOW IT IS, NOW CAN WE MOVE ALONG? VRISKA, ARADIA, TEREZI, YOU'RE IN CHARGE OF GAMES AND ENTERTAINMENT.

AG: allllllllright. I suppose I can 8ring flarp stuff.

AG: *larp

CG: CAPTOR, I'M TRUSTING YOU WITH OUR MUSIC SELECTION. DON'T FUCK IT UP.

TA: fuck you, a22hole.

CG: EVERYBODY UNDERSTAND THEIR RESPONSIBILITIES?

CA: wwait a second. wwhat exactly are you contributing, kar?

CG: I'M CONTRIBUTING MY TIME, FUCKASS, AND THE GAS I'M GOING TO WASTE DRIVING NEARLY TWO HOURS SOUTH TO PICK HIS CLOWN ASS UP THREE MINUTES FUCKING NOTICE. I'M CONTRIBUTING THE ENERGY I'M GOING TO PUT FORWARD WHILE VIOLENTLY ASS-RAPING MY BANK ACCOUNT WITH SOMETHING EXTREMELY SHARP AND UNPLEASANT.

CG: DOES THAT ANSWER YOUR QUESTION?

CA: quite nicely, actually.

GC: K4RK4T, GROSS. JUST, NO.

CG: WHATEVER. COURT ADJOURNED. AND DON'T FORGET YOUR JOBS. I'LL OPEN ANOTHER MEMO TO WARN YOU GUYS WHEN WE'RE CLOSE.

CG: I'M HONESTLY REALLY EXCITED TO SEE THIS ASSHOLE.

GC: 3

carcinoGenecist [CG] closed the memo.

Gamzee waited patiently in the unfamiliar town, leaning heavily against a stop sign like a hooker. He swirled around the contents of his second bottle of faygo, a grin spreading ear to ear when a familiar black car pulled the side of the road right beside him.

Much to his surprise, the door swung open and Karkat stepped out, smiling at the sight of his best friend, who looked no different than when he had mysteriously vanished. "Hey, asshole." He said through his grin.

Gamzee laughed and ran to embrace Karkat, whom he hadn't seen for years, and heard from in months. "If it isn't my best motherfuckin' friend! I hella missed you motherfucker."

"I see you haven't changed at-fucking-all." Karkat tried to sound angry, but he ended up laughing.

Gamzee remained silent, face buried into his best friend's shoulder.

"Welcome home." Karkat murmured, shoosh-papping Gamzee's back, with an odd sense of bliss filling his usually raging heart.

"Thanks best friend, but we ain't home yet!" The other said and he pulled away and looked at Karkat for a long moment. "You haven't changed either, brother." He poked his friend's nose with a grin. "Haven't gotten any taller."

"S – Shut up, it's not my fault you're practically a fucking sky scrapper! Did you get taller?"

"Nah, brother, I think you just all up and got shorter."

"Fuck you. Get your clown ass in the car."

"Now that's an order I can all up and follow." Gamzee said as he slid into the passenger's seat of Karkat's beat up Honda Civic.

There was a silence after Karkat got it. He looked ahead, both his hands placed on the steering wheel like he was taught when he took his driving test. A look of seriousness overcame his face. Finally, he put the car in drive and they took off.

"So what did you want to talk about?" He felt foreign, a sort of surrealism settling around him. He couldn't help but ask himself if he were dreaming. Was Gamzee really sitting right beside him, acting like he hadn't vanished two years ago?

Gamzee frowned. He didn't know if he was ready for this being in the state he was. "Let's not talk about that yet. Why don't you all up and fill me in on what the hell happened why I was incognito like the motherfucking ninja I am?"

Karkat sighed, shaking his head, but a slight smile pulled at his lips. "Well, not much has changed. We have a new member of our 'group' though. I think you'd maybe like him. His name is Tavros."


End file.
